


this is a spiritual world, i'm a material boy

by alondra (alaundry)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Elias Bouchard is a Rat Bastard, M/M, Making Out, Office, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaundry/pseuds/alondra
Summary: tim wants to skimp out on a field assignment, and elias isn't too happy about it.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Kudos: 5





	this is a spiritual world, i'm a material boy

**Author's Note:**

> this is a less spicy version of another tim elias fic which will be posted as another chapter very soon! this is just the tame version for younger audiences/those who don't want to be exposed to actual sexual content. the furthest things go is heavy making out. enjoy!

“Do you _really_ think he’s that stupid, Tim?”

“Shh! He’ll hear you!”

They both laughed. Sasha and Tim were currently in the breakroom chatting over their respective cups of hot chocolate and apple juice. Maybe chatting was the wrong word to use, maybe _scream-shouting_ was better. 

“He’s nowhere to be seen, stupid,” she hissed, smacking his shoulder playfully (but not before glancing around to make sure Elias _actually_ wasn’t there). “Of course he’s going to find out you’re lying!”

“No, he won’t! I’ve done it countless times with Jon and he’s believed me every time.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Tim for about ten seconds, before she couldn’t take it anymore and snorted. They both started cackling _again_ , and he had to shush her once more. 

“J-Jon… Jon and Elias are completely different people, Tim. He’s willing to let you slip with a lot more. I can’t believe you don’t notice the way he looks at you!”

Tim scoffed, taking a sip of his fresh apple juice. The taste was crisp against his tongue, and he enjoyed it so much that he nearly spilled it all over the table. He licked the edge of his lips, sighing exasperatedly, before freezing in place. Sasha did the same, looking at a very distinct spot over his shoulder. 

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Tim turned in his seat. 

“Speak of the devil,” Sasha mumbled, immediately standing up and walking away to not be there anymore. 

Tim shot a terrified glance in her direction, but she was already at the coffee machine, pretending to fidget with it. She slapped its side a couple of times, cursing loudly and way too dramatically. 

There he was. Elias fucking Bouchard, standing in the doorway of the break room. His dark hair was slicked back and impossibly melted into the perfect shape it always had. There was one stupid grey strand hanging over his cat-eye glasses. Most importantly, the eyes behind those lenses were currently _staring_ at Tim, half-lidded yet alert, like a lynx stalking his prey. 

_Is he… Was he looking at my lip? Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God he’s coming this way, oh my God--_

“Good afternoon, Tim.”

_For fuck’s sake, even his voice is slimy and posh._

“Um… Hey, Elias,” he greeted. Tim had to crane his head upwards painfully to look at his face, delicately arched eyebrows and pursed lips looking right back down at him. And those fucking _eyes_ … those almost neon green irises just threatening to--

“You seem well,” interrupted Elias, slipping one skeletal, veiny hand up the front of his own vest and tightening the purple tie he was wearing. “How are you doing?”

_… What?_

Tim cleared his throat and tried to smear the dumbfounded expression he knew he had off his face. “Um… I’m doing… fine… I’m… actually, I did need to talk to you about something!”

He could _feel_ Sasha rolling her eyes behind him, just like how he could feel the lightbulb going off over his head. 

“Oh?” Elias cocked his head to the side. His eyes were still glued to Tim’s mouth, and he could feel the bead of tart juice dribbling down his chin. “And what’s that?”

He was about to answer, but found no words came out of his open mouth. Tim swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. Eventually, he managed to push back the anxiety rising in his chest enough to reply. “I… wanted to tell you that I needed an extension on the a-assistant paperwork.”

That stopped Elias in his movements. His fingertips had been in the middle of gracing the side of his long neck absentmindedly, and Tim cursed in his head.

_He’s doing it on purpose._

“... An extension?” Almost as if he meant to say: _Did I hear you right?_

“Uh, yeah. The file’s been getting corrupted every time I try to print it, so I’m gonna try to fix it this weekend. I can get it to you by Monday, and--”

Suddenly, Tim’s words were coming out muffled. There was a black handkerchief pressed against his open mouth, with a strange degree of harshness and firmness. He jolted in confusion, as Elias began painstakingly dragging the fabric across his chin and wiping up the apple juice still glistening on his mahogany skin.

“We can talk about it in my office. Ten minutes,” he spoke, voice low and almost… contained. Threatening.

Tim didn’t get a chance to respond before Elias was already on his way out. He had taken his handkerchief with him, and it felt like he’d taken a chunk of his lungs, too. He found himself slowly reaching up to touch the spot Elias had been cleaning.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Sasha began badgering as she sat back down across from Tim. He looked starstruck and she was not happy about it. 

“Um… I have… no… idea…” Tim said, drawing out his words unintentionally. She reached over the table to lightly smack his wrist, and he yelped playfully. “Hey!”

“What did he say?! Why was he groping your face like that?! Is he mad?!”

Tim pushed his dark locks out of his eyes. He shook his head, leaning back and staring at the ceiling upside-down. He could imagine Elias there again, gazing right back at him with that strange hunger in his pupils. 

He shivered.

“He just asked me to talk to him about the extension in his office, right now. I don’t… I couldn’t _tell_ if he was mad, but I hope he’s not. I really want to go out for drinks this Friday instead of slaving at my fucking desk with one of these dumb pens.” 

As if to illustrate, Tim reached over to another table, where someone had left a green click pen labelled _The Magnus Institute_. He snatched it up, fidgeting with the utensil between his long fingers. “Look! The words aren’t even printed on; it’s a sticker! And the ink sucks! I always have to flick it and then it ends up getting everywhere.”

He looked up. Sasha was still staring at him, open-mouthed expression just in awe.

“What?”

“We were just talking about our _boss_ , the _head_ of the _Institute_ that we _work_ at, practically _throwing himself_ on you, and now you’re going on a rant about how _bad the pens are_?!”

“... They’re really bad pens.”

“You’re unbelievable!” she cried out, throwing her arms in the air exasperatedly. Sasha leaned back in her seat, lifting up her hot cocoa as if toasting him. “The biggest, horniest nut job award goes to you!”

Tim laughed behind a fist and gulped down the last of his juice. He stood, heading over to Sasha and placing a perky smooch onto her forehead. “I promise I’ll be fine! I’ll make it out alive and text you the entire time, I promise.”

“You promised already in that sentence,” she told him with another roll of her eyes. She reached up to gently grab the loose neck of his button-up and pulled him down for a real peck on the lips. “If you get fired, you’re taking me out for drinks.”

“I won’t have any money!” Tim protested, but smiled regardless. He pushed one of her locs behind her ear carefully, before sticking out his tongue and setting his mug in the communal sink. “See you later, Sasha.”

And there he was, standing in front of the large ornate door leading to Elias’s personal office. He gulped down a feeling of anxiety rising in his chest, and eventually mustered the courage to knock.

Normally, he definitely would have just barged in (he did that with Martin and Jon all the time), but their previous encounter left Tim a little apprehensive, on his toes.

“Come in,” Elias’s voice declared from inside. It had a little echo— was his office _that_ big?

Tim pushed down on the doorknob and entered the room. He didn’t know what he had been expecting.

Of course, he’d been… _to_ Elias’s office before, just to drop off a couple of documents and case files, but that never pushed past the doorway. He always knocked and ended up slipping the papers under his door or through a sliver of a crack his boss opened through the door. Now, he could see just what all the hype was about.

_Damn. Sasha owes me a fiver._

It was clean, to no surprise of Tim’s, and extremely organized. The decorations ranged from gold and green, with far too many eye motifs _everywhere_. His bookshelves expanded the entire walls, filled with neat books and VHS tapes. It was all very pristine, dust-free.

Except for his desk. Elias’s desk was an utter _mess_ , case files scattered across the wood and his computer monitor kind of twisted around the many wires. If Tim looked hard enough, he could see spiderwebs forming in the crevices underneath. 

_Oh. My. God._

He was about to start snorting into a hearty laugh, until he caught sight of Elias himself. He was settled down in his desk chair behind the surface, forehead propped up on it by his elbow. His eyeglasses hung by their chain and dangled in front of his chest, and now Tim was… staring at Elias’s chest. Okay. This is happening.

“Tim.”

His voice was different than before. 

“... You called for me?”

“Well,” Elias said curtly, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his stomach. Tim noticed that his bony fingers had countless rings decorating every inch of them, thick, shiny, and expensive-looking. Had he always worn so much jewelry? “Not so much called for you, as… summoned you.”

“I would say those are synonyms.”

“You would be wrong.” 

Tim’s thick brows furrowed. He was a little confused as to why Elias was nitpicking his way of _phrasing_ , but brushed it off. He stayed in place right in front of the door, hand still on the yellow knob. Almost as if he was just noticing this, too, Elias’s green eyes seemed to rake up Tim’s torso and then down his arms.

“Close the door, Tim.”

He blinked a little, but didn’t disobey. He pulled the heavy ornate gateway closed, and crossed his arms over his chest almost petulantly. “So.. what did you need me here for?” Tim asked. 

Elias lifted his eyes up so he could bore into his face. His pupils dilated, and the shimmering in the irises practically lassoed Tim in and pulled him closer.

That’s not what made Tim step forward, though. What did make Tim step forward, however, was Elias’s index finger _very_ slowly curling up against and caressing the air, beckoning agonizingly and tantalizingly leisurely.

He was not in a hurry, not at all. 

Tim arrived at the desk and kept his arms crossed, peering at Elias, who was doing nothing but smiling. Smirking? Grinning?

“... Well? Are you going to answer the question?”

“I didn’t _need_ you, per say,” Elias drawled, raising his hands and touching the pads of his fingertips to one another. “We can start there. I just wanted to ask you about that paperwork that you _begged_ for an extension on.”

Tim scoffed loudly and lifted his hands. “What— huh?! _Begged_ ?! I don’t know what you’re on about, but I didn’t _beg_ for an extension, Mr. Bouchard. I asked for it.”

“You didn’t even do that, _Timothy_ .” Now, Elias’s lanky fingers drifted over the surface of his desk, dark oak a stark contrast against his almost insipid complexion. The way he said his name, his _full_ name, dripped with onyx ink and spoiled honey. The consonants were tinged with an acrid yet treacly syrup, and Tim could practically see them pour out onto the floor between his fangs.

_… Oh god._

“Whatever. Start the conversation, then. What do you want from me? Did you want to refuse my request or something? You could have just done that in the break room.”

“Oh, on the contrary. I wanted you to sit right here,” Elias hummed, gesturing smoothly towards the seat in front of him, “and explain a little more, put it into… perspective. What exactly is pushing you to ask for an extension?” 

Tim rolled his deep brown eyes and settled into the chair eventually, legs spreading upon instinct as he leaned back against the back of it. He crossed his arms over his chest, just kind of staring at him. “... Well, it’s like I said. The file keeps getting corrupted when I try to print it out.”

“Mhm. Tell me more.”

Now, Elias was up and out of his chair. He had moved around so he could be on the same side of the desk as Tim, leaning against it from behind and holding the edge. He looks like he could break the wood between his fingers. 

Spooky.

“Well… um… it’s literally just like I said. Again, the computer just—” Tim’s breath hitched. Elias had leaned down, almost unnoticeably, but it felt like they were sharing _way_ too much air. It was hot. Tim couldn’t move.

Why couldn’t he _move_?

“... doesn’t… want… to… work.”

“Hm. I see,” Elias leaned in, impossibly closer. How the fuck wasn’t he falling over in his seat, on top of Tim already? His voice was like molasses, slowly dripping onto Tim’s lap.

And, for a split second, Tim found himself offhandedly wondering if that was how Elias’s lips would taste like. Sweet. Bitter, maybe? He didn’t know which he preferred. 

“... Well. I suppose that there’s not much else we can do to speed up the process then, hm?” Finally, Elias was leaning back on the desk, gaunt fingers gripping the edge of it like he was choking someone.

He could hear Sasha in his mind screaming at him and slapping him upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. “He’s your _boss_ , Tim!” she would chastise, shaking him by the broad shoulders. He, in turn, would get distracted by the pretty freckles gracing her flat nose and round cheeks, and completely ignore anything she said to him.

“So… uh, can I get an—” Tim’s breath hitched in his throat suddenly, and he had to turn his head to cough, covering his mouth with his fist, “... fuck. Sorry. Can I get an—”

Now, he wasn’t speaking, but not because of himself. Elias was gripping Tim by the face, fingers squishing his cheeks so hard his lips puckered. His digits dug into his tan skin like he had been holding onto the desk earlier, and Tim was sure he was leaving small, circle-shaped bruises.

How the fuck was he going to explain this later?

“What was that?” Elias’s voice was dangerously sharp, vowels and consonants digging into him like a blade. 

Now, Tim was confused. He sounded pissed off, but in a controlled manner, like a fire contained inside of a fireplace. He could burn down Tim’s entire forest, and he would say ‘thank you’.

He made a quizzical noise, cheeks burning red because, _oh,_ that was definitely a bit of drool sneaking past his lips. Was it touching Elias’s fingers? Why wasn’t he _reacting_? The only thing he was doing was staring violence into his brown eyes. Tim wanted to shrink back into his seat, but he also wanted to surge forward and crash his mouth onto Elias’s. There was so much thick tension in the air, he could feel it rolling against their chests.

“I. _Said_ … What was _that_?” he repeated himself, and sounded just like a boss would. This should not have been sending a heated jolt through Tim’s abdomen, but it did.

“So-can-I-get-an-extension-on-it?” he tried to mumble out. It was almost incoherent; he didn’t know how Elias could understand him.

“After you coughed. What did you say?”

It suddenly dawned on him. “... _Fuck?_ ”

“There you go. Now, was that so hard?”

 _Oh._ Tim’s knee twitched upwards, and almost hit Elias square in the hipbone.

“A-Ah— _shit_ , God, I’m sorry.”

Elias’s grasp squeezed, drawing a choked squeak out of Tim. He yanked him closer, and his other hand pressed into his thigh almost painfully. “Hm?”

Tim was quick to correct his prior mistake. “N-Nothing, nothing! I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been very inappropriate for a _work_ conversation, Mr. Stoker. It’s almost _reprehensible_ ,” Elias murmured, and if he moved his lips just right, pursed them a certain way, they would end up meshing with his. “Don’t you think you deserve a little… behavioral… _correction_?”

Oh, _God_ , yes.

“I… Well—“ a sheepish chuckle escaped him, “that, uh… that depends on what _behavior correction_ entails, boss.”

Elias clicked a noise through his teeth; they were glinting like fangs. “I’ve got you held right in my clutches, spit pouring between my fingers, and you’re _still_ interested in being snarky? You are a…” a deep inhale, “handful, Timothy Stoker.”

Tim melted right in his seat. He wanted Elias to—

His thoughts were interrupted by, _finally_ , Elias’s mouth on his. It’s burning, electric and fiery against his lips, and he surged upward to try and deepen it. Tim found his hands tangled against the edges of Elias’s jacket, fists curled up tight and tugging. This was his first rodeo with his _boss_ , but not overall. He hoped it showed. 

Suddenly, it was gone. Tim opened his eyes, and Elias had started to wipe at the corners of his own mouth with the handkerchief he’d previously used to clean off the apple juice. 

_What the fuck is he wiping at…?_

Tim would have been mortified, if his brain wasn’t coated in a heavy, green haze, thick with arousal. _Spit? Is… Is that mine?_

“You’re messy,” was all Elias said. He ran his thumb over Tim’s bottom lip, scooping up some of it between his digits and dragging it over his own tongue. “Mm. Apple juice, still.”

Tim couldn’t even find the breath to speak in full sentences. He just stammered out: “I-I… Wha-What?”

“Messy. I don’t like messes, Timothy,” Elias practically purred. His long index finger curled underneath his chin and tipped his head up towards him. “Meet me in the storage closet west of Jon’s office. I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say to you when he stays to work overtime.”

Tim was speechless. He watched Elias finish cleaning up his own mouth, and then left the office with a stack of files between his spidery digits. He gulped, staring at a spot on the wall that he didn’t find particularly interesting, before bursting into laughter and pulling out his phone.

“SASHA!”

“You don’t have to yell, Tim! I’m on my break, what do you want?! Hey, do you want to try this chicken place with me? It’s right on the corner of—”

“Sasha,” Tim repeated through a grin. “You won’t be _lieve_ what just went down in Elias’s office.”


End file.
